


Using Your Words

by waywardelle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Season/Series 11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 19:11:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5713885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardelle/pseuds/waywardelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sam gets fed up and tries to leave, so Dean convinces him not to go with a long overdue declaration of love, Dean Winchester-style.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Using Your Words

**Author's Note:**

> this is prompt filled on my tumblr (pathossam.tumblr.com) from the lovely veganwincest xo  
> the prompt was as follows:  
> "Can I get a big blow-out wincest love confession? You know that big speech Billy Crystal gives at the end of When Harry Met Sally? Something along those lines, except still in character and specific to the brothers. I just want Dean to tell Sam that he loves him and give him a list of all the reasons why."

Sam can hardly see what he’s stuffing into his duffel through the blinding ache of tears threatening to fall. He’s used to fighting with his brother, has done it all his life because that’s what happens when two fundamentally different people fit their broken, cragged pieces together over and over in a desperate attempt to make them fit. And they fit, they do fit, they fit so well that Sam’s sure he’s never fit anywhere better, but when they fall apart, they fall apart so hard that the earth quakes with it. And so does his chest, where his shriveled, pathetic excuse of a heart is beating wildly against his ribcage. 

“Fuck,” he groans, feeling the overflow of his tears finally making their way down his tired, unshaved cheeks. He zips up his bag, and the sound of the teeth coming together the period on the end of a very long, very tiring sentence. He hikes his bag over his shoulder, grabs his leather laptop case and drapes his jacket over his arm, wiping at his nose with his sleeve. One foot in front of the other, Sam. You can do this. You can leave this Bunker, this place, this home you’ve created with the only person you’ve ever really loved like this, with no lies, no illusions, no bandaids over still aching wounds. 

His stride picks up once he hits the hallway, and he’s almost confident that he’s doing the right thing. He just has to make it to the garage to get behind the wheel of the truck Dean keeps tuned up for him, just in case Sam needs to get out on his own. Dean knows him, knows he doesn’t do well cooped up without an escape clause. Oh, god. What’s he– how’s he gonna sleep tonight, in some cold motel room with a drippy faucet, without Dean’s hot breath against the back of his neck? 

He shakes his head as he walks into the library, determined not to think about that. Sam’s tired of feeling invalidated, tired of Dean not taking him seriously. Why can’t Dean just believe God could actually be talking to him? Sam knows he’s nothing special, nothing important, but for some reason, the universe has put a lot of the world’s burdens on his shoulders, and this could be one more of those. One more supernatural call-to-arms, and he’s the one that let the stupid Darkness out to begin with, all to save his– all to save Dean, the man he always loves and always leaves, in the end. 

Dean is sitting in near darkness in the library, just one lamp on at the table where he’s nursing a four-finger glass of whiskey. He sets his glass down with a sharp thud when he sees Sam stride past him without making eye contact, the stairs leading to the door in the war room the only thing he’s letting himself look at, because he knows if he takes one look at Dean, he’ll sink to his knees in front of his big brother and beg forgiveness for something he’s not sure he should be asking forgiveness for. 

“Just where do you think you’re going?” Dean inquires, coldness lacing his tone, like he absolutely couldn’t care less. But Sam knows that’s not true, knows if Dean actually didn’t care he’d just stare right through Sam without saying a word. 

Sam is a weak, stupid man who loves his brother way too much, in all the wrong ways, and the sound of his low, gruff timbre makes him stop in his tracks, halfway to the archway of the door. He turns to face Dean, who’s still stupidly beautiful even with that scowl on his face, and all Sam’s ever wanted is for that face to always look upon him with love and aching tenderness, not this bitterness that seems to flavor everything they’ve done since Sam decided he has to go back to the Cage to stop the Darkness from taking every bit of light in his life. Especially since the Darkness seems obsessed with taking the only light in his life: his brother. 

“I’m leaving,” Sam says firmly, despite the tears that haven’t stopped racing down his cheeks. “I’m gonna go find a way to get to The Cage so we, so I– so this can be stopped. I, I’ll call you if I find something, okay?” 

Dean’s face has drained of all the ruddy color Sam’s used to seeing, and he watches as Dean’s Adam’s apple bobs in throat with the thick swallow he takes. 

“You’re. You’re leaving me?” Dean sounds shocked, breathless, hunched over, like Sam just punched him in the gut.

This is exactly why Sam shouldn’t have spoken to him, because his resolve is already crumbling. He has to keep strong, because he’s not gonna stay in a place where he’s constantly mocked for his beliefs. 

“You heard me,” Sam tells him, hiking his bag up higher on his shoulder. 

“Don’t,” Dean bites out to the table, his head dipped between his shoulders. “Sam. Sammy, don’t. Don’t go.”

“I have to,” Sam announces harshly. “What’s the point of me even being here, Dean? All you, all you seem to want is a, is a warm body without a brain, because every time I open my mouth to voice my opinion, you either mock it or systematically break down the ways I’m wrong. The only time we’re not fighting is when we’re fucking, and if you want someone to just ‘yes sir’ you, you can find that in any bar across the US. Hell, that was practically your profession before. Before… you know. Us.” 

“Don’t leave me,” Dean repeats, sounding a little hysterical. “Sam, you can’t go. You. You promised, we promised.”

Dean’s right, Sam did promise. But they’ve made many promises to each other over the years that have been broken, so what’s one more thing, really? Sam has to look away from his brother, whose hands are shaking as he picks up his glass to take a harsh gulp from its contents. 

“I have to,” Sam repeats, but he isn’t moving. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t leave,” and Sam realizes as he says it that that’s what this is all about. 

Sam can read Dean’s body like a book, the look in his eyes when he breaches Sam’s insides, the way he bites his lip against the words he can’t say. He knows how Dean feels, how they both feel, how it’s never felt like anything in this world, every bit of Heaven and Hell wrapped up in their bodies when they’re moving together, panting into each other’s mouths. But Sam can’t live like that, can’t survive without words to repeat to himself every night when the dark thoughts crawl in. 

Dean pushes away from the table, stumbling a little towards him. Sam backs up as Dean approaches, knowing he’ll be lost, his resolve crumbled if his brother gets his hands on him. That’s how this has always worked: Dean uses his words as weapons, then his body as a makeshift bandage, laying it over all the open wounds in Sam he’s left. 

“Sam, I. I love you,” he grits out, not like it’s a hardship, but like it’s a foreign language he’s trying out in front of a native speaker, unsure and a little embarrassed about his imprecise pronunciation to someone so fluent in that tongue. 

It turns Sam inside out to hear that, absolutely flayed and drawn open, but Sam’s not an idiot. He knows that, knows Dean loves him. It’s the only thing he knows some days, and that’s not the problem here. It’s the way Dean uses his love against Sam that’s the problem.

“Dean, you– you can’t just, you can’t just tell me you love me and expect that to make everything okay. It doesn’t work that way,” he murmurs, eyes downcast, because he’s unsure of what he’s saying. 

His heart and his body are telling him it does work that way, because he’s fighting with all his brainpower not to drop to his knees in front of his big brother and beg him to say those words over and over until Sam can memorize the exact way Dean’s mouth forms them, the exact way they sound on that whiskey-roughed tongue. 

“Okay,” Dean says, moving towards Sam again. Sam keeps backing up until he hits the bookshelf, but Dean keeps coming until his outstretched hand cups Sam’s face, his callused thumb wiping at the exhausted tears on his face. Sam can’t help but close his eyes, leaning into the aching touch, because they haven’t been soft with each other in weeks, and Sam needs it. He needs his brother’s affection just as much as his passion. 

“Okay,” Dean repeats, laying kisses against Sam’s trembling eyelids, “does it work like this?

“Sam, I. I love everything about you. i know I don’t tell you, okay, I know that, but that’s not a reflection of you, it’s me. It’s all me. I’m all messed up, so fuckin’ scared of saying those words to you, like there’s some magic button someone’s gonna push once I say them that’ll let every bad and evil thing out there know that there’s something Dean Winchester loves. But. But I know every bad and evil thing out there already knows that, so, I. I know it’s stupid, but. God, Sam. Sammy, why do you think so little of yourself, huh? Is it my fault, baby? Is it?”

“Dean,” Sam sobs behind gritted teeth, trying so hard not to fall forward into that strong chest that’s just been ripped open so Sam can see beyond it, see what’s written across Dean’s heart.

“Sam, I. I’m so goddamn scared of losing you that I just shut down at the thought of it. You know, you damn well know you’re not stupid, and I hope you know I don’t think that. I just. Sam. I can’t accept anything that will put you in harm’s way, don’t you see that? You do the same for me, you get just as mad at me. You know why? You know why we feel that way? Because if you go down to that Cage, Sammy, if you get stuck there, you’ll take every part of me with you. 

“There’s nothin’ in this life worth havin’ without you right there next to me, smiling that smile that says I’m not nearly as funny as i think I am. It’s so big, Sam, the way I love you. It’s so big I can’t see around it sometimes, can’t see the way it hurts you to be at the receiving end of all that love. You’re the most brilliant person on this Earth and beyond, the strongest, the kindest. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in all my years alive, nothin’ is more beautiful to me than the way you look when I’ve got my dick diggin’ deep inside you, and your eyes get all fluttery and your mouth drops open. Or. Or when you’re sleepin’ next to me, all curled up into me like you just know I’m gonna keep you safe through it all. Nothin’ makes me feel like more of a man than when you trust me to keep you safe, Sammy. That, that smile of yours, with those dimples, I live and die by that smile. i hope it’s the last thing I ever see, you smilin’ down at me, lookin’ at me like there’s nothing else in this world. You, you give me new reasons to love you every day, from the way your forehead scrunches together when you’re annoyed with me, or the way you pout those pretty lips when you’re tryin’ not to laugh. God, Sam, the way that big brain of yours works, always fifty steps ahead, always guidin’ me, always givin’ me the answers before i even have the question. 

“I remember the way your soul looked when Death had it in his hand, after he brought you back from, from that place you wanna go again. I remember feelin’ jealous that he got to hold you in the palm of his hand like that, remember thinkin’ that’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. Sam, your soul was so bright that it was shinin’ out of his fingers, I had to close my eyes against it. All those hundreds of years of torture, and it was just, just so bright, like a star, like all those stars we used to look up at, and there you were, just. Nothin’ has ever been able to take away that light, Sammy, and you’re. You’re the brightest light in my life.” 

Dean falls silent finally, kind of gasping in all his breath, like he can’t believe all that just came out. Sam’s been frozen in wide-eyed shock since Dean began his speech, and he stands there, staring at his brother for God knows how long. His heart is racing, his mind completely blank. He never thought, not in a million years that anything could run that deep in his brother. Not that Dean is shallow, but he doesn’t allow himself to feel things all the way through for fear of it gutting him completely when he inevitably loses them.

“Please don’t leave me,” Dean whispers finally, falling forward a little, and Sam does what he always does, what he’ll always do, what they’ll always do. He catches his brother against his chest, wraps him up tight, knows Dean just gave him his entire foundation and won’t be able to stand until Sam gives it right back. 

“Never,” Sam murmurs into Dean’s hair, closing his eyes against the feeling of those words Dean gave him running themselves through his veins. “Even when I hate you, even when I want to strangle you, I can’t ever leave you, never want to leave you, Dean. Not anymore.”

Dean sighs against Sam’s neck, his lips sucking little marks of ownership into Sam’s skin. The swell of love Sam feels for his brother crests over him like a tidal wave, and he clutches harder, pressing them both into the bookcase. He can’t ever get Dean close enough, not ever. 

“You. Do you love me, too?” Dean wonders quietly, damp lips catching against Sam’s sweaty neck.

In all of Sam’s anger and self-righteousness, it stuns him to realize he’s never told his brother he loves him, either. He almost can’t believe it, all the times he’s mouthed it into Dean’s skin, thought it at him behind a smile, meant it through the moans and groans Dean draws out of his body, he’s never actually said it. 

“I don’t have a speech prepared or anything,” Sam jokes, smiling into Dean’s hair.

“You little bitch,” Dean scoffs, drawing away from him finally. Sam’s brother is beautiful, and he loves him so much, in all the good, bad and dirty-wrong ways you can love a person. 

Sam nods, pressing his nose against Dean’s cheek after Dean picks his bags up where Sam had dropped them onto the floor in shock. “There aren’t enough words for me to tell you how much i love you,” Sam murmurs into Dean’s ear, kissing at the lobe, “so why don’t you let me show you instead.” 

“Yeah,” Dean breathes, ghosting a kiss across Sam’s trembling mouth. “Yeah, I’d love that.”

**Author's Note:**

> You're all so beautiful, and I love you so much. Thank you for continuing to support my humble little words. Xo


End file.
